OUTDOORS: Forest follies at deer camp

Ah, deer camp — those annual getaway palaces in the pines where camaraderie is a cozy comforter in the night chill and tall tales tumble from genial partakers passing a jug of Olde Frothingslosh.

I have been fortunate, or not, to have spent a number of showerless days in camps that ranged from no running water, electricity nor indoor plumbing to those that imported cooks from snowed-in Western states, had bars that would rival “Cheers” where everybody doesn’t know your name, nor cares, and a generator to power the telly for Sunday NFL games.

For the past ten years I have been a deer camp of two: Me and the late, great Gunny and now the nine-month-old Charlie, both Brittany Spaniels who loved and love the road trip to camp.

One of the perks about going to camp for tomorrow’s opening of the Pennsylvania deer season (the real one) is that plenty of Thanksgiving leftovers are going with me.

New Jersey’s deer season, again, the real one, the six-day firearm hunt, will open a week later, on Dec. 3.

In Pennsy, tradition sets the opener always for the first Monday after Thanksgiving. It will be my 39th opening day in the Keystone State, but I didn’t start hunting there until I bought my 12 acres in 1973.

For the first time in three seasons I will be back on my old stand, or under it, — I don’t climb into trees anymore since nearly killing myself — and the gas towers behind it are gone. Now it’s just the humming of a motor sending money through pipes.

I haven’t seen a shooter buck in those three years, but took the consolation prize of doe meat in the freezer most every season.

But the truck was packed before this was written and I was headed north yesterday morning, just me and Charlie.

Every dog should own a man, and he does.

Now, the annual 25 deer camp absolutes that we’ve been listing for some 30 years, updated to reluctantly acknowledge today’s geeky technology.

1. There will be mornings when the camp is colder inside than out.

2. You will be the only occupant who does not snore.

3. Those who snore like an ox being gored or a drunken lumberjack will be in the bunk directly above or below yours.

4. The only reading material at camp, or in the outhouse, will be 10-year old issues of Playboy or a mouse-chewed copy of the Cabela’s catalog.

5. The parade to said outhouse is in direct proportion tothe spice level of the evening’s chili.

6. Any new member arriving tethered to an electronic device will be asked to leave it in his vehicle or the gizmo will be tossed into the camp garbage pit.

7. Old timers will not tell the newbies that such crap will not work in camp anyway.

8. The camp will run out of beer, vodka, gin, scotch, olives, limes, lemons or jug wine in three days.

9. You’re the new guy in camp. Guess who’s making the booze run, a 20-mile round trip, half on a dirt road?

10. Men who can’t boil water at home think they are camp cooks. They are delusional.

11. There is a camp neat freak whowill insist on sweeping, tidying up and doing breakfast dishes before heading out hunting.

12. He will, of course, be ignored.

13. The camp horn dog and wild man knows of a topless joint an hour down the road.

14. The two guys under age 40 who take him up on the road trip will find one bored pole dancer, $6 bottles of Bud and 200 hungry-eyed hunters three deep at the bar.

15. Somebody will take the camp poker game too seriously.

16. The guy who never played before will take the biggest pot.

17. There are no curfews at deer camp, but most sports turn in by 8 p.m.

18. Some will not get out of their bunks in the dark to hunt on day two.

19. The woodstove fire will go out during the night.

20. See Number Eight above for who is charged with restarting it.

21. One guy will down a trophy buck and will be congratulated, but not too much.

22. The sport who misses and admits it will have his shirttails cut off.

23. At least one camp occupant will constantly whine about the food, coffee, mice, porcupines and lousy hunting grounds.

24. He will not be invited back.

25. For a few days every December, this band of outdoor life-loving brothers cannot think of a place they would rather be.